Diary of a Demigod
by Ariana Fortigue
Summary: Dear Diary, I'm an ordinary girl, or as ordinary as I can be, having ordinary friends, living in an ordinary world with such an unoriginal name called 'Earth'. Sometimes, I wish that something would happen, something big, something to rock even the foundations of my life.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first PJO story, so please tell me how it is. Flames are accepted.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HoO. Rick Riordan does.**

Dear Diary,

I'm currently sitting beside my friend's desk, studying the upcoming examination with her. And by upcoming, I mean an hour later. If you think I'm doing some last minute revision, you're seriously mistaken. I'm not doing some _last_ minute revision, because I've never got around to starting revising at all. Also, I can't be reading the textbook and writing this at the same time, can't I? So, technically, I haven't revised anything yet.

What? You didn't seriously think that I'm going to start worrying about my grades or start to flip through the book's pages frantically, did you?

Oh, I'm not stupid, mind you. Just lacking the motivation, or simply put, lazy. But don't blame me. If you want to blame something, blame the weather. The hot afternoon sun is shining down brightly, sinking the world in a drowsy state. There's no wind, no plants are swaying, no birds can be seen flying about, and nothing seems to be anywhere near active. It's like the entire universe is going to doze off any second.

Adding to the fact that I simply _cannot_ feel anxious. The last time I felt that particular emotion is…what? Months, years ago? Anyway don't ask me why I can't feel nervous, because I'm just as clueless as you are.

Plus, what's the use for studying a subject you're not even a tiny bit interested in? I don't like this subject, I won't study it. This also applies to teachers in general. I don't respect this teacher, I won't concentrate in class. Or maybe it's more of a _can't _concentrate.

I'm really sleepy now… there, I just yawned. Proof. And another yawn, and another… Wow, I must be real tired. But I had enough sleep, I think.

Let's see… I slept at 2 am, woke up at 3 am, fell asleep and woke up at 5am, fell asleep again and finally _really _woke up at 7.30 am. Then I did my morning routine: read some books, tidy up the room, read again, brush my teeth and cleaned up, read yet again, comb my hair, then read again before going out of my room. Nothing out of the ordinary.

So…what has me so tired? I can't think of anything, so I settled with the weather. Curse you, weather! May you turn cloudy and start to rain until tomorrow morning so that I won't have to turn on the air- conditioner! Hey, maybe my wish came true, there's thunder rumbling in the distance!

Well, that was random. What can I say? I'm just weird like that, since the very second that I was born. Even my mother says that I'm weird. You know, I don't even think that she's my mother, actually. I look nothing like her, except if you count that we are both short.

On the other hand, my sister, my oh-I'm-so-perfect-I-am-above-everyone sister, looks like my mother, talks like my mother, acts like my mother, even dress like my mother. Though considering my mother's fashion sense, I don't believe that it's a good thing.

All my life, I've been quite singled out, and I never blend in. Both the positive and the negative kind. It's either being singled out as the leader, or being cast out like an outsider. I blame it on my personality.

I'm really quiet, secretive, and distrustful if I don't know or don't like you. If I deemed you a good person, I'll become so annoying and talkative I'll annoy your head off. It's perfectly common for people to wonder if they like being my enemy or friend better, so most people will likely choose not to be involved. I will too, if I'm to choose. Maybe.

Then there's my mood. My moods change so much, it's not even counted as mood swings anymore, mood _flashes_ are more like it. One second I'm very happy, the next I feel depressed, then I'll feel content. I tried not to, really, but I can't help it. Think I'm seriously messed up? That about sums it up.

I look up at my friend, Jeanne. Her name's pronounced as 'Jinny', if you must know, but I prefer to call her 'Jean'. She doesn't mind. She doesn't mind much, actually. Jeanne's been my best friend since fourth grade, that's three years ago. I met her in the library, our favorite place to hang out in school. We became best friends immediately. Considering our personalities, that's quite a feat.

Me, I'm impulsive, I can't sit still, and I absolutely _have_ to do something. Anything, from running about causing havoc, to building a five feet tall pyramid out of books. Also, don't forget those infamous mood flashes of mine.

Jeanne, she's quiet, can sit there reading a book or doing anything really, without moving _at all._ Or maybe that's only my imagination.

She never talks much, yet is always surrounded by her classmates. Guess she just has that air of calm and the laid back attitude that draws people to her. Sometimes, I envy her, being Weirdo-ole-me. But most of the time I'm just glad that I'm never in the lime light. I don't know, I just like hiding in the shadows, observing everyone but remaining unseen.

We're complete opposites, yet we're best friends. Guess opposites _do_ attract. Huh.

I'm an ordinary girl, or as ordinary as I can be, having ordinary friends, living in an ordinary world with such an unoriginal name called 'Earth'. Sometimes, I wish that _something_ would happen, something big, something to rock even the foundations of my life.

Who knows, maybe it's just around the next corner.

**Is it good? Bad? Awful? Review please! And please tell me which godly parent should 'I' have. I haven't decided yet.**


	2. Chapter 2

…**To be honest, this story is more similar to a diary than a fanfic, an imaginative twist in daily life. Turns out its quite boring, isn't it? Oh well, I enjoy writing it, and it helps me put down what my mind conjures up. You don't like it? I don't care, and never will.**

**Disclaimer: If I own PJO or HoO, the sky's turning neon green. Look outside, is it?**

Dear Diary,

I'm doomed. I'm so dead. I'm flying to heaven right now.

Pfft, I wish.

You see, remember the test that I told you about? Well, Jeanne checked her answers with the best student in the school (I wish I could do that, I didn't even know how on earth did she managed it) and I checked my answers with her. Guess what? Out of 60 questions, I got 36 wrong.

If I hadn't told you, I'm in one of those six best classes in our year. So that means that about 300 best seventh grade students, I'm the only student who failed. I know, cool, right?

Just so you know, I'm not worried about my grades. Not really. Why would I? If I get sorted into an average class next year, hey, that means that I don't have to study so hard anymore! Not that I'm studying hard now, but, still. The point is, I'm worried about my parent's reaction. Specifically, my dad.

No, I'm not afraid that he'll ground me or something, I just don't like him disappointed at me, or even worse, ban me from reading! _Shiver_. It's best I tell him nothing, then he'll never know, because he doesn't go through my exam papers, or check my homework. Yes, that's best.

My mother? Oh, she'll just say that I got poor marks I'm lazy, or throw some insults at me. I love you too, Mum. Anyway, do you know that I'm immune to death threats? That's what'll happen when you seemingly grow up with them. Here's an example: Yesterday's a Saturday, and on most Saturdays the whole family gather at someone's house to have a get-together-dinner. And by the whole family, I mean_ all_ my father's siblings, their family, and of course, Grandpa and Grandma.

This time, the dinner's at my house, so mum, being her ever perfect self, was preparing dinner when I came down for breakfast. When I sat down at the table, she was chopping up some lettuce. 'Didn't I tell you to come downstairs every day before 9?!' she almost shouted, a scornful expression on her face. Knowing that another telling off was coming; I didn't really pay it much mind. I know it's rude, but when you've heard the same speech every single day for two years, you'll give the same reaction too.

Unaware of my inner thoughts, Mum continued shouti- er, talking. 'Every single day, I have to shout 'Come down', 'Wake up' and 'Breakfast' more than a dozen times, and do you listen? No!' By then, she had moved on to chopping the chicken wings. 'I already told you that you don't need to shout,' I mumbled, my mouth stuffed with buttered bread. I love butter!

Back to Mum, 'Let me tell you, the next time you wake up this late, see if I don't chop you dead!' With that, she swung the medium-sized-but-still-very-large knife down on the chopping board, cleanly slicing through the chicken wing right in half with a sound _BANG_.

I kept eating my breakfast, giving her a muffled answer that sounded like 'mmmfffnnoooo'. It seemed to satisfy her, so she went back her chopping with only slightly over loud _BANG_s. I guess she was a bit stressed, then. She always does when the family's coming for a gathering dinner. Poor Mum. But I'm kinda glad that she's not _really_ stressed. 'Cause if she is, her death threats are more creative and threatening. Generally, it revolves around being chopped to death, head got bashed, brain gets torn out, or something like that. Then there are the creative ones, like poked to death with a chopstick, boiled in hot water, killed by frying pan, death by soup spoon, and eaten by fish.

About my morning laziness, I actually wake up almost every day at 7.30am. It's just my routine taking me so long: read some books, tidy up the room, read again, brush my teeth and clean up, read yet again, comb my hair, then read again before going out of my room. Not _that_ long, right? Right?

Alright, I was distracted by those exam points, but now I'm going to tell you what I _really_ wrote to tell you. Yesterday, when Mum took a break from preparing dinner in the afternoon, she took me to the bank. She's always like that, if she needs to go somewhere that needs parking tickets to park, she brings me along, so she won't have to pay them. So there goes two precious hours that I could've spent reading, wasted instead on doing absolutely nothing.

Okay… where was I? Oh yeah, we're at the bank. There I was, sitting in the backseat of the car (I like it better than the passenger seat), listening to the gibberish on the radio, when _it_ happened.

A brown blur rushed past the car so fast, I didn't think that it was moving on the ground. The brown blur was followed closely by another white blur, and they stopped right in front of the car. Turns out, the two blurs were two teenagers, older than me, I think. Sitting on horses. Horses that have wings.

I think I fainted then.

When my mind finally got back into working order, I quickly ducked behind the driver car seat, peeking out at the two weirdoes. I don't know what I was thinking, hiding from them. The two teens, a boy and a girl, discussed something for a few seconds. Then the boy pointed to the left, and then to the right. After that the two horses took off, the girl to the left, the boy to the right. Like one of those armies, when they scatter. The horses flew and flew, until they disappeared out of my sight. I had sat there unmoving for five minutes (quite a feat) before I snapped out of my daze. Mum was knocking on the window impatiently, glaring at me to unlock the door.

When we arrived home, I was almost convinced that I had a wacky dream, that's all. Keyword: almost. I didn't tell Mum about it. How could I? There are no such things as horses with wings, are there? I just don't know, it all happened so fast.

I Googled those winged horses, and found out they're called pegasus. They originate from Greek Myths, I think. So what I saw can't be real, right? It must have been me daydreaming, or a hallucination, right?

Right.


End file.
